


On The Devil's Path

by collidingminds



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, F/M, Sons of Anarchy Crossover - Freeform, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:52:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collidingminds/pseuds/collidingminds
Summary: Jughead Jones wrote off the idea of ever being able to leave Riverdale the day he joined the South Side Serpents as his father's second. His dreams of a path different from FP's were exchanged for the role of Vice President in a motorcycle gang known as a major player in the gun trade along the West Coast. With the Serpents as the only family Jughead has left, he sees his future tied to theirs - until a girl from his past returns.With a tight ponytail and a plethora of opinions, Betty Cooper could be the one thing that makes Jughead believe there are still other options for him in this world.





	1. Origin Story

**Author's Note:**

> Sons of Anarchy Crossover. Title from This Life by Curtis Stigers, the theme song to SoA. 
> 
> It goes without saying that this is an AU work of fiction inspired by two incredible properties, of which I have no claim. It doesn't go without saying that this is my first time playing in the Bughead sandbox, I hope you enjoy.

Even at a young age he’d never fulfilled anyone’s expectations; a kid with a name like Jughead who never took an uncalculated risk or caused any trouble in class raised a few eyebrows. A childhood nothing like his father’s, the boy kept his nose clean and kept to himself with only three exceptions. On any given day he could be found with his sister running three feet ahead of him and a short blonde ponytail and flaming red hair flanking his either side. Jughead grew up surrounded by people who were supposed to look out for him but didn’t, and people who owed nothing to him but made him their top priority anyway.

By the time they reached kindergarten, the three friends had an unprecedented dynamic. Betty Cooper was the sensible one. With good ideas and a solid head on her shoulders, she had more drive than most adults. Perhaps it was a trait she’d picked up from her journalist parents, but Betty was inquisitive to a fault, wanting to know the story behind everything. She complimented Jughead who found himself more comfortable making up details to fill in the gaps to stories he didn’t know. She was also the only one to challenge him, matching his dry humor with her unsuspecting wit and holding him accountable for what he should achieve rather than what he did. By eight years old, they had both already learned to adapt to new situations by overthinking, getting too caught up in their own heads and at least one of them knew it wasn't good. 

Betty and Jughead's childhood chemistry was so different from the chemistry Betty shared with the other boy in their trio, Archie Andrews. Theirs was a friendship of carefree laughter and testing each other’s boundaries and fears. Archie never let her grow too serious or worn down by the future she was constantly working toward. The redhead was the perfect balance to the others’ observant natures with natural charisma and a genuine openness about him that brought Betty out of her shell and allowed Jughead to feel relief from the weight of responsibility he often carried with him. 

Archie had filled the role of faithful companion to Jughead since the day he was born. It was never clear if the two had been thrown together by the closeness of their fathers or by a fate that designed them to be inseparable, but Archie stood by Jughead when many chose to leave. He was the frontman of the trio. With a natural talent for sports and a genuine interest in the other kids, Archie earned acceptance among their peers, earning Jughead and Betty a measure of acceptance by association. 

While they were a misunderstood group, it was less about the trio as a whole and more a misunderstanding of how the naturally charismatic young boy and eager to please young girl had coupled with an enigma from the wrong side of the tracks. A poor childhood forced Jughead to go against the grain from a young age. He stuck out like a sore thumb with a brown bag in the lunchroom and last year’s clothes in school pictures. Luxuries were not common in the trailer park but cynicism and a sardonic outlook were. The one comfort Jughead maintained came in the form of an old beanie perched on his head like a crown, a gift from the day his mother told him he was going to be a big brother. By the time he’d reached elementary school, his parents had started fighting and the happiness from that day had already become a distant memory. Someone so in touch with harsher realities in life wasn’t a good fit on a playground, wasn’t suitable to a small corner of suburbia where few had ever learned indifference as a form of defense. 

The three had a childhood that practically wrote itself: a largely misunderstood but close friend group who thrived in each other’s company. While not without complication, it was still a coming of age tale that lined the aisles of bookstores around the world. 

Of course, contentment tends to fall apart when faced with change and everything changed the summer of Betty’s 12th birthday. 

\--

Change hit Riverdale like a tornado. 

First it was the departure of the Coopers and the newspaper they ran. Following a new job across the country, Hal Cooper packed up his family just before the youngest Cooper’s birthday. Betty spent the day pulled away from the only friends she’d ever known and whittled their trio down to two. The abandonment of the Coopers wasn’t only felt by the two twelve-year-olds she’d left behind. The whole town would realize that they’d filled a vital role as the only source of news holding the local police accountable to the people. Unfortunately, that realization wouldn’t come until after the entire town felt the effects of corruption.

Second was the mansion on Thornhill. No one had seen the Blossoms coming with their high society expectations and the glamor that people in a small town craved. Penelope Blossom, with perfectly tailored dresses and manicured nails, could orchestrate an event that harkened back to the glory of the roaring 20s with live music and dancing. It exposed people who once considered chain restaurants with white tablecloths elegant to the feeling of exclusivity, and that introduction was one that couldn’t be rescinded. 

While the housewives of Riverdale had been perfectly content before that arrival, the elite feeling the Blossoms introduced infiltrated like a drug. A taste of a better life and the town’s most influential were forced to choose between what was best for their community and personal benefit to themselves. Seemingly everyone in power, from the Mayor’s Office to the Sheriff's Department, was willing to look the other way. 

If Penelope Blossom was the dealer, Clifford Blossom was the kingpin. His business card read contractor for Thornhill Construction but his resume said monopoly was really his game, buying out companies everywhere he ever lived. His company notoriously manufactured low prices to a point where local competition couldn’t compete, forcing blue-collar workers desperate for work to join him, never using their talents for construction. 

The final piece was guns. On paper the Blossoms may have been the royalty of the west coast construction world, but in reality they dealt with metal far more than wood. Guns coming into the country depended on small, unsuspecting towns that no one watched too closely to house and distribute new shipments to larger cities along the coast. Clifford Blossom depended on strong, intimidating men who had never known power or influence to be able to be bought. He was rarely disappointed. 

The Blossoms single handedly created a market of men who were mobile enough to make runs spanning the coastline and rough enough around the edges that few would have the courage to question them. The South Side Serpents rise to prominence was like an elevator ride to the penthouse, seemingly overnight they had been put in control of a town that had thought them inferior for decades. 

The first man to work for Clifford Blossom was the one most desperate for something to go right in his marriage and his wallet. FP Jones was always a little bit of luck away from turning his life around and a lucky stroke that came with the title of Club President was a job he’d been more than willing to accept. 

FP told himself he’d done it for Gladys and his kids but, three years into his contract, when she left with his daughter he would stick by his decision, a lifestyle of alcohol, guns, and power too enticing to lose. He was a natural fit as leader to the guys he’d worked with for years. Most of them were born and raised on the South Side and they’d entered the gun trade the same way they’d traded in their letterman jackets for motorcycle leathers - together, as a family. 

The day the boy with the crown-like beanie chose to stay behind with his father he became the prince of the underworld sweeping Riverdale and, whether he’d consciously chosen it or not, would come to shoulder all the responsibility that came with it.


	2. Times Have Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years ago FP joined the Serpents and things changed. One year ago Jughead followed in his footsteps and things changed even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking a minute, but I hope you enjoy this next piece of the puzzle.

There was a saying about movement that had always stuck with Jughead. He first heard it when he was a kid, some misguided teacher’s way of trying to connect with the son of the leader of a motorcycle gang. Sure, it was an assumption and a stereotype, but she was right, he did understand metaphors about bikes and speed. 

‘When the rubber meets the road’ seemed to be the theme his life stuck to, the perfect words to illustrate the act of two forces coming together acting as a catalyst, launching something in a new direction. Shortly after his old wool beanie crowned his head, he became a brother. Once the wood of a pencil met his fingertips he became a writer. And the moment leather kissed his shoulders he became a Serpent, seen and revered in a town that held nothing sacred. 

It hadn’t been a difficult decision, joining. He was raised by men who wore tattoos of snakes with pride, a symbol of what had once been overlooked becoming deadly in a heartbeat. They looked out for him, provided for him, and gave him a family that stayed when his own hadn’t. 

When his dad went away, caught by the cops in a deal gone wrong, he was the one to find the bastards who sold him out, restoring honor for his family and his club. It earned him a seat at the table that would never be questioned and a title beyond FP’s son. 

That was the day he was presented with a jacket. With his best friend beside him, the two became the youngest recruits the South Side had ever seen. 

School changed the day his dad began to work for Clifford Blossom. Suddenly, kids who had ignored him for years were interested in everything he had to say. It had been a shock to his system, leaving him unsure of how to handle such a drastic change to the social order.

If he thought life had changed following FP’s decision, it was nothing compared to the effects of his own. 

While his father being in a position of authority had earned him popularity, his own position of command earned him fear. A student had never been a Serpent. A minor had never witnessed the deals or moved any product themselves. The leather around his shoulders was meant as a barrier on the road, the most likely material to protect him if his bike went down. In town it acted as a barrier from people, separating him from his peers once again but this time making him virtually untouchable. 

Archie’s presence seemed to transcend the jacket. With the same pattern on his back Archie remained almost as approachable as ever. His heart-of-gold still on his sleeve, just newly wrapped in leather. This time his likability couldn’t be transferred to Jughead. 

The biggest change for him was not the return to social isolation, but the presence of two new figures in his life who seemed to deliberately go against the rest of the school. Cheryl and Jason Blossom hadn’t associated with him when they were new to town, preferring to associate with the desperate socialites of their little society, but power recognizes power and Jughead’s had tripled overnight.

Jason Blossom was just like his father. On paper, the good boy, destined for an Ivy League school and the future heir to the Blossom dynasty. He’d been groomed since birth to go far beyond what his father had established, a future politician on track to conquer California. 

Cheryl Blossom had never been the pick to inherit the throne despite consistently proving to be far more brilliant and strategic than her brother. Her story reflected the tale of a mother jealous of her daughter for living a youth she still longed for, and a father stuck in an old world of male dominance and authority. 

While Jughead hadn’t had any idea what to do with his popularity, Cheryl had a mission for hers. She was a queen looking to establish a hierarchy. Most high schools established one based on athletic prowess, hers was based on loyalty, the inner circle being those who trusted her and the innermost circle, those who she trusted in return. Jug was never sure where exactly on the spectrum he fell, but a year of having Cheryl by his side, dictating the social order had proved its advantages. 

In many ways, Jughead recognized that he was far more like Jason than he could ever be like his sister. The two boys locked into a future their fathers hand picked for them. Cheryl on the other hand never let her parents’ narrow vision for her future act as her reality. He respected her immensely for it, knowing that even if he didn’t like Cheryl Blossom she was a hurricane he preferred to get swept up with rather than fight the wind. 

The ride into the parking lot of Riverdale High was an easy one. It was his routine now, one that allowed him to dip low into the turns and find that feeling of exhilaration that didn’t lessen no matter how many times he did it. He could feel the heat from the tailpipe of his bike against his leg, a comfortable warmth as long as he never touched it directly. 

The lot was full by the time he got there, but his spot next to Archie’s bike remained open. Senior year was the only thing standing between him and full-time club business, and as much as he would outwardly deny it, he was planning on enjoying every minute of it. This was the last chance he’d have to be more than a Serpent.  
  
\--

Betty Cooper wasn’t sure what to expect returning to Riverdale. She’d heard about the changes to her sleepy little town, but unsubstantiated stories rarely stand a chance at beating personal memories out for the truth. Betty refused to believe the town that had given her so much life could possibly have fallen so far until she could see it for herself. 

There was a knot in her stomach over her thoughts of her best friends. She’d never managed to find anyone who understood her the way Archie and Jughead did. She only held five year old memories of them, stories from before any of them had any agency in the direction their lives went. A lot happened between 12 and 17, she was a living testament to that. 

She’d gotten to town two days before school started. That gave her two days to unpack her life again and try to familiarize herself with a town that felt so foreign on her skin no matter how hard she tried to hold on to ideas of the Riverdale she thought she knew. 

Betty had made one trip to Pop’s hoping that she could catch sight of Archie or Jughead before the next day at school. She didn’t see them, but felt some comfort at the taste of Pop’s burger in her mouth. At least one thing hadn’t changed since the Coopers left. 

The first day of school was more nerve-racking than any she could remember. She’d had a strange pressure in her gut, a need for approval from her old friends that she hadn’t felt in ages. Would they like who she’d become or would the picture perfect facade her parents helped build fool them too? 

She took a fourth look in the mirror and pulled her ponytail tight. In a green turtleneck and mustard yellow jeans she looked okay, an attempt to both look nice and fly under the radar as the new kid in her classes. She added a soft pink color to her lips and cheeks. It was a familiar look, but she needed something to be comfortable about today. She just hoped it wouldn’t be the only thing. 

Riverdale High hadn’t looked too different from the outside. The students looked like any other. She didn’t recognize any of them, but she hadn’t really expected to. Puberty would have changed most of the features she’d seen before and there were only two people she was confident she would be able to pick out of the crowd.

She dropped everything off at her locker and made it early to her first class, unsure of what else to do. With a seat picked strategically in the middle of the room, she said a silent prayer that she would know someone to walk through the door. As the seats around her filled with faces she failed to place, she deflated a little with the realization that maybe the saying was right, she couldn’t go home again. 

With a loud bell shaking her from her thoughts, Betty watched as her teacher, Ms. Grundy, took her place in the front of the room. 

“Welcome to your senior year,” she said with all of the naive optimism teachers seem to start every school year with. Ms Grundy’s eyes scanned the room searching for something and Betty’s stomach dropped knowing she was about to be called out as the new kid. 

She was saved by the door opening and a leather clad boy with black hair strolling in, a smirk still on his face from whatever conversation he’d been having in the hall. 

“Ah, Mr. Jones, tardy is not the best way to start the school year,” Ms. Grundy said with none of the enthusiasm her voice had held just a moment ago. 

Betty felt her breath catch and a tightening in her chest at the name Jones. The boy in front of the room wore no beanie on his head and a soft smile didn’t fall into place when his eyes met hers, but she would know those green eyes anywhere.

Her eyes flicked to his jaw as it tightened for a moment before he spoke. “What can I say Ms. Grundy,” he said, never breaking eye contact with Betty, “I wouldn’t want to give anyone here false expectations.”

Betty felt her fingers instinctively curl into her palms, the familiar comfort of her nails digging into the well-worn grooves in the center bringing her short relief. The pit that had been in her stomach all morning bloomed into all-consuming dread. She may have recognized Jughead Jones, but she felt sure that the boy in front of her was one she’d never met before.


End file.
